


Lost and Found

by MizJoely



Series: Khanolly [22]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Star Trek: Into Darkness - Fandom
Genre: AU, Angst, Crossover, F/M, Parent!lock, Sherlolly - Freeform, Smut, khanolly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-17
Packaged: 2018-02-04 23:05:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1796578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/pseuds/MizJoely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt by thesociopathologist: Okay, my prompt is: Khan/Sherlock had his pregnant wife, Molly, put into cryosleep, but he lost her somehow (I don’t know, I’m not THAT creative). He finds her again, and she’s already had the baby. So he shows up and she recognizes him immediately and reunion-ness. SMUT OF COURSE, M! Please and thank you :3</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lost

The last time he’d seen her she’d been heavy with child. His child, a son; Augmented from the moment of conception, although they didn’t realize that until it was far too late to do anything about it. Molly had cried when she saw the medical charts Dr. Singh had prepared, explaining in far too much detail exactly what alterations had been made to their son’s genetic code in order to assure that he, too, would be full member of the so-called ‘superior’ race that madman was attempting to create.

That had been their last tie holding them to a planet whose population had made it crystal clear that they neither wanted nor needed any Augmented leaders to pull them out of the increasingly shortened cycle of war-truce-war that Earth had fallen into during the early 21st century. When Sherlock had been approached by Dr. Indira Singh to take part of an radical experimental genetic experiment, he’d hesitated as any sane man would. Then war had exploded again, costing him his parents, DI Lestrade and almost Molly, and his mind was made up: anything that could calm the madness, and any straw that could be grasped was a small enough price to pay for the tantalizing goal of peace.

Oh how wrong he’d been, the man now known as Khan Noonian Singh thought bitterly as he surveyed the world into which he’d been awoken. A world three hundred years and a dozen brutal wars, including one that had gone nuclear, away from the one he’d left behind. A peaceful world at last, but one that now abhorred the sort of genetic experimentation that had turned him into a physically superior being, as well as enhancing his already phenomenal intelligence.

Three sleeper ships, each holding one hundred Augmented humans, had left Earth; they’d originally been part of a secret government ‘final solution’ program created by the American government and repurposed by the Augments when they took behind-the-scenes control of the world in a desperate attempt to act as Drs. Singh and Soong had designed them to, as voices of reason amidst the insanity.

Unfortunately insanity had plagued far too many of the Augments, and ultimately war had broken out between them as well. Khan and his followers had fled, once it was confirmed that Molly’s baby was not and never would be a ‘normal’ human, and therefore would find no safety on the planet where he’d been conceived. She’d submitted to the plan without a murmur, his lovely, wonderful wife, and he knew it was out of concern for their child rather than herself that she did so.

Would she have agreed to his so-called foolproof plan, he wondered bitterly, if she’d known they would end up right back where they started, once again pawns of those who would use them as tools for their private agendas? At least Singh and Soong had had lofty goals even if those goals had proven to be unobtainable at the time; all Marcus wanted was a weapon he could use to design more weapons, in his quest to engage the Klingon species in war.

Once Khan had grasped the basics of twenty-third century Earth technology – along with the intriguing alien tech also made available to him, some legal, some less so – it had taken him very little time to get up to speed. Only the threat of losing those he held dearest – of his ninety-nine fellow sleepers, only seventy-two besides himself had survived – kept him obedient to Marcus’ demands. And then only after he’d seen with his own eyes that Molly and their son still lived. He’d noted John and Mary’s faces among the survivors as well, and that of Sally Donovan who’d proven so invaluable, but they were the only ones he glimpsed and Marcus refused to tell him which twenty-eight names he should now mourn.

The one thing he had to thank Marcus for was the return of his pre-Khan memories. Before entering cryosleep he’d only retained snippets of his first life; the knowledge of his name and the career he’d built for himself as a consulting detective, his steadfast friendship with John and Mary Watson (their daughter Isabelle; was she still alive, no, best not to dwell on it), his fondness for his parents and even his brother Mycroft, who hadn’t survived to join them in their quest…but his revival at Marcus’ hands had brought everything back, all of it and not just the bits that had survived his various surgeries and treatments.

He and the others who’d been sorted out as leaders of the ‘new race’ had been the only ones to lose that sense of self; fortunately, John, Mary, Molly and the others he’d known before who had joined him in the program had refused to surrender their feelings for Sherlock Holmes just because he’d been reborn as Khan Noonian Singh. Equally fortunate was the fact that many records had been lost during the subsequent wars after they’d left Earth, and the only name Marcus knew was that of Khan. If he’d realized who Molly Hooper-Holmes was to him – Khan had managed to imply that his only concern was that the fetus was still in cryosleep, as if the woman housing said fetus meant nothing to him – then the Admiral would have an even greater tool to use against him.

Finally, however, the time had come for Admiral Marcus to get his comeuppance. Khan’s first instinct had been to seek vengeance on the man when his desperate plan to save his remaining comrades had been interrupted by their supposed deaths; however, fortunate had favored him for once, and he’d discovered that, instead of being terminated, they’d merely been hidden away, still in their modified photon torpedo tubes, awaiting the day when Marcus could use them as weapons in his war against the Klingons.

Knowing that they still lived, aware of their whereabouts, Khan set into place another stealthy plan of his own. There were very few people he felt he could trust in the new world, but one of them was a young computer genius named Billy Wiggins who had sussed out Khan’s true identity somehow – not that he was once called Sherlock Holmes, of course, but only that ‘John Harrison’ was a pseudonym Marcus had insisted he adopt. 

Now, he awaited word that Wiggins had done as promised and replaced all seventy-two torpedo casings and their precious cargo with dummied-up duplicates. They would give off all the false readings as the real torpedoes, but held neither Augmented hostages nor explosives. As soon as the word was given Khan would put the remainder of the plan in place: a computer program would be activated that would reveal all of Marcus’ sordid secrets to the Earth government, Starfleet, the Federation government housed in Paris…even a set of coded files would make their way to the Klingon High Command. Section 31, the clandestine operation that prided itself on its invisibility, would suddenly become the most high profile group of so-called patriots the world had ever known.

The only thing that wouldn’t be revealed, of course, would be the existence of Khan and his crew. He and his family would go into hiding, then quietly make their way off-planet and once again seek out a new world in which to live in peace. They were too well known as power-mad dictators and genetically enhanced monsters for Earth to ever accept them as permanent residents; even if their so-called crimes against humanity were revealed as the frame-up jobs they were, Khan knew he and the others would be forever be viewed with wariness and suspicion. People would be waiting and watching for them to do anything that might be construed as the least bit out of the ordinary, just so they could then cry “Monster!” and hound them from their homes.

No. He refused to endure that ever again. His son and any other children his people might produce would never face that sort of stigma, not as long as he breathed.

His personal communications device beeped; he glanced down and smiled in satisfaction. Wiggins had done his work well.

It was time for Admiral Marcus to reap the whirlwind he’d sown.


	2. Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here there be smut. And fluff. Sex and babies (well, one baby). Thanks for reading and for all your lovely comments!

**Two Months Later**

She was sweeping off the front steps of the tiny cottage where she and her son were living, the only building she’d visited since being awoken from her cryosleep. She knew John and Mary and their daughter and sixty-eight other survivors were also hidden away in various locations, but that was all she knew. The man who’d awoken her, a stranger named Billy Wiggins, had the code she and Sherlock had worked out, which meant her husband was still alive – or at least, had been two months ago.

Two months ago, after she’d waited in vain for some sort of further contact from her husband, she’d given birth to their son and named him Victor William Sherlock Holmes. She chose Victor for its obvious meaning; he was the only remaining triumph in her life, and if it was to be his fate to live in isolation from humankind, then he would do so bearing a name worthy of his heritage. Not his heritage as an Augment, of course, but his heritage as both a Hooper and a Holmes.

Right now he was the same as any other two-month-old; mostly sleeping and eating, although she frequently found him contemplating the world through eyes sharp with intelligence, the same blue-green as his father’s, and with much the same way of regarding his surroundings.

What she wouldn’t give to look into those eyes again…

“Molly.”

She froze at the sound of her name, then slowly turned her head toward the gate at the end of the small path leading to the cottage door. There, framed by the flowering roses trained over the white trellis, stood the man she’d been waiting for. The man renamed Khan Noonian Singh, leader of the Augments, her husband, father of her child. The man she’d never stopped thinking of as…

“Sherlock,” she breathed, the broom dropping to the ground as she hurled herself into his waiting arms. He’d vaulted the gate as soon as the first syllable was out of her mouth, and they met midway along the short, stone-paved path.

The cottage was rustic in appearance but still boasted all the modern features one would want for a 24th century abode, including sensors in every room that would alert her if Victor needed her. Luckily he was a sound sleeper, because as soon as Sherlock and Molly entered the house, they wasted no time in removing one another’s clothing, collapsing to the floor and making love as they hadn’t been able to for far, far too long. And Molly had never been able to remain silent when her husband was pressing that beautiful, sensuous mouth of his against her pussy. She cried out his name as his tongue lapped eagerly against her clit, his fingers softly pressing her folds apart so he could better reach her; she dug her hands into his hair – soft, ginger curls at the moment, a cursory disguise – and flung her head back as he pulled a deep, guttural cry from her throat as she came.

She tugged at those curls, laughing and crying as she pressed kiss after kiss to his lips, his cheeks, the tip of his nose. And he was smiling, too; not the cold smile he’d so often worn once his identity had been altered to better suit Dr. Singh’s ambitions, but the warm, loving smile he’d only ever shown her and those closest to him. Which reminded her… “John’s alive, but you know that, and Mary, and of course and Isabelle…”

“Yes, and you’ve given birth to a healthy baby boy named Victor,” Sherlock interrupted her, lying her gently but firmly back on the pile of their discarded clothing. “Do try to stay focused, Molly; I want to see them all, especially our son, but right now your breasts require my full attention, and after that I intend to shag you rather mercilessly, how does that sound?”

He lowered his head to her breasts without waiting for an answer, suckling at each in turn, taking in the leftover milk from Victor’s last feeding. It was…filthy, wrong…and so very, very right. She was almost distracted enough by the feel of his lips on her breasts not to notice how very differently he’d sounded just now. As if he were somehow, miraculously, more Sherlock than Khan again. She hardly dared to hope that it was true, that he’d managed to get back more of his suppressed personality traits, but now certainly wasn’t the time to quiz him on the matter.

He lifted himself off her body and kissed her, hard; she tasted the mingled musk of her sex and milk of her breasts and his own, sweet flavor that she’d never forgotten, and moaned. He moaned right back, then reached down and eased himself into her body, slowly, a few centimeters at a time. She was fully recovered from giving birth, of course; even if she hadn’t been Augmented, three months was more than enough time for a woman’s body to recover enough for sex. But if he wanted to savor the moment, to take his time and ensure her comfort, she wasn’t one to complain.

He stilled his body above hers as soon as he’d fully seated himself, eyes closed, seeming to bask in the sensation of feeling her around him. She knew she was doing that exact thing as her eyes fluttered shut and her hands tugged at his shoulders, bringing his face down to rest on her shoulder. “Love me, Sherlock,” she whispered, begging with mouth and tongue against the remembered sensitive spots on his throat, the lobes of his ears. She raised her knees and lifted her hips, and as if he’d just been waiting for her to make the first move, he began thrusting into her, panting and growling his need for her until he came with a roar that shook the rafters…and awoke their son.

The soft chime of the sensor set next to the door alerted her to that fact only miliseconds before she heard their son’s wails flowing down the stairs. She held Sherlock to her for a moment longer, pressed a soft kiss to the tip of his nose, and then tapped his shoulders to signal her need to get up off the floor

He was frozen, his expression caught somewhere between joy and terror, and she knew it had everything to do with meeting his son for the first time. She smiled and shoved at him a bit harder; still looking dazed and uncertain, he obediently rolled himself off her body and stumbled to his feet, automatically reaching down to pull her up to standing. Molly didn’t bother with her clothes; instead, she tugged gently at Sherlock’s hand, wordlessly urging him to join her. He followed obediently down the hall and up the stairs, hesitating only a second as she opened the nursery door. “Come on, Sherlock,” she said with a tender smile. “Come and meet our son. After all, you’ve spent the past year making sure he has a good life, haven’t you?”

Then he smiled, that full-on, it’s-just-like-Christmas smile he’d once reserved only for cases and eventually for her, and she felt tears gathering in her eyes and choking her throat. Tears of happiness, tears of relief at finally having her family together again. Yes, there were still hardships to be overcome, but now that they were together, nothing could stop them.

Smiling, she reached down and lifted Victor in her arms, then turned and gently transferred him to his father’s awkward hold. “Say hello to your daddy, Victor,” she said softly.

A single tear tracked its way down Sherlock’s cheek as he stared with undisguised awe at the tiny form that lay so trustingly in his arms. Victor had stopped crying as soon as Molly lifted him up, and now he appeared to be studying his father just as intently as his father was studying him.

“He’s perfect,” Sherlock said a few minutes later, eyes lifting to meet Molly’s, filled with awe and love in equal measure. “And I will never let anyone bring him a single moment’s pain. Either of you. I promise.”

Molly cupped his cheek. “I promise the same thing, Sherlock. Nothing will ever come between us again.”

The future wasn’t entirely rosy, but she was confident of their ability to navigate its darker shoals together.


End file.
